'Yesterday,' Delaney said. 'Get a good night's sleep.'
A little after midnight, in the upstairs bedroom, he went in to shower first, leaving Monica brushing her hair at the dressing table. She came into the open bathroom after he finished, catching him sucking in his gut and examining his body in the full-length mirror.
'Now I know you met Diane Ellerbee today,' she said.
He gave her a sour grin. 'You really know how to hurt a guy, don't you?'
She laughed and patted his bare shoulder. 'You'll do for me, pops.'
'Pops?' he said in mock outrage. 'I'll pop you!'
They giggled, wrestled a moment, kissed.
Later. when they were in their beds, he said, 'Well, she is a beautiful woman. Incredible. Correct me if I'm wrong, but can't great physical beauty be a curse?'
'How so?'
'It seems to me that a young woman who starts out tremendously lovely would have no incentive to develop her mind or talents or skills. I mean people worship her automatically. Some rich guy grabs her off and buys her everything she wants-so where's her ambition to be anything?
She thinks she deserves her good fortune, and her looks will last forever.'
'Well, that obviously didn't happen to Diane Ellerbee.
She's a respected professional and she's got brains to spare.
Maybe some beautiful women go the route you said, but not her. She's made her own good fortune. I told you I heard her speak, and the woman is brilliant.'
'You don't think there's something cold and detached about her?'
'Cold and detached? No, I didn't get that impression at all,'
'Maybe it was a poor choice of words. Forceful and selfassured. Will you agree to that?'
'Yes,' Monica said slowly, 'I think that's fair. But of course a psychotherapist has to be self-assured-or at least give that impression.
You're not going to get many patients if you seem as neurotic as they are.'
'You're probably right,' he admitted. 'But something about her disturbs me. It's the same feeling I get when I see a great painting or sculpture at the Met. It's pleasing visually, but there's something mysterious there. I've never been able to figure it out. I can look at a painting and really admire it, but sometimes it saddens me, too. It makes me think of death.'
'Great beauty makes you think of death?'
'Sometimes.'
'Did you ever consider seeking professional help?'
'Never,' he said, laughing. 'You're my therapist.'
'Do you think Diane Ellerbee is more beautiful than I am?'
'Absolutely not,' he said immediately. 'To me, you're the most beautiful woman in the world.'
'You really know what's good for you, don't you, buster?'
'You better believe it,' he said, reaching out for her.
Dr. Samuelson's apartment was on the 18th floor of the co-op at 79th Street and Madison Avenue. His office was on the ground floor of the same building. It was not unusual for him to descend to work in the automatic elevator, wearing a holey wool cardigan and worn carpet slippers.
Delaney and Boone huddled under the marquee of the building for a moment, trying to keep out of a sleety rain that had been falling all night.
'Just for the fun of it,' Delaney said, 'let's both of us go after this guy. Short, punchy questions with no logical sequence. Biff, bang, pow!
We'll come at him from all angles.'
'So he won't be able to get set?' Boone asked.
'Partly that. But mostly because he got me up so early on a miserable morning.'
Dr. Samuelson opened the door to his office himself; there was no visible evidence that he employed a receptionist. He took their wet coats and hats and hung them away. He ushered them into a cluttered inner office in which all the furnishings seemed accumulated rather than selected. The place had a musty air, and the few good antiques were in need of restoration. A stuffed barn owl moldered atop a bookcase.
In addition to an old horsehair patient's couch, covered with an Indian blanket, there were two creaky Morris chairs in the office. These Samuelson pulled up facing his massive desk. He sat behind it in a wing chair upholstered in worn maroon leather.
Sergeant Boone displayed his ID, introduced Delaney, and explained his role in the investigation.
'Oh, yes,' Samuelson said in a high-pitched voice, 'after you called last night I thought it best to make some inquiries.
You both are highly recommended. I am willing to cooperate, of course, but I have already told the police everything I know' 'About the events of that Friday night,' Delaney said, 'when Ellerbee was killed. But there are things we need that are not included in your statement.'
'For instance,' Boone said, 'how well did you know the victim?'
'Very well. Ever since he was my student in Boston.'
Delaney: 'Did you know his wife as well?'
'Of course. We visited frequently here in New York, and I was often their house guest up in Brewster.'
Boone: 'Do you think a patient could have killed Ellerbee?'
'It's possible. Unfortunately, assaults on psychiatrists are not all that uncommon.'
Delaney: 'Was it a happy marriage?'
'The Ellerbees'? Yes, a very happy, successful marriage.
They loved each other and, of course, had an additional link in their work.'
Boone: 'What kind of patient would attack Ellerbee?'
'A psychopath, obviously. Or someone temporarily deranged by the trauma of his analysis. It is sometimes an extremely painful process.' Delaney:
'You said his analysis. You believe the killer was a man?'
'The nature of the crime would seem to indicate it. But it could have been a woman.'
Boone: 'Was Diane Ellerbee also your student?'
'No, she was Simon's student. That's how they metwhen he was teaching.'
Delaney: 'Did he convince her to start her own practice?'
'He persuaded her, yes. We often joked about their Pygmalion-Galatea relationship.'
Boone: 'You mean he created her?'
'Of course not. But he recognized her gifts, her talents as a therapist.
Before she met him, I understand, she was somewhat of a dilettante. But he saw something in her he thought should be encouraged. He was right.
She has done-is doing -fine work.'
Delaney: 'How do you account for those two hammer blows to the victim's eyes?'
Samuelson exhibited the first signs of unease at this fusillade of rapid questions. He fiddled with some papers and they noted his hand trembled slightly.
He was a wisp of a man with narrow shoulders and a disproportionately large head balanced on a stalky neck. His complexion was grayish, and he wore wire-rimmed spectacles set with thick, curved lenses that magnified his eyes.
Surprisingly, he had wavy russet hair that appeared to have been carefully blown dry.
He sipped his coffee and seemed to regain his poise.
'What was your question?' he asked.
Boone: 'rhose two hammer blows to the victim's eyes could they have been a symbolic attempt to blind the dead man?'
'It is a possibility.'
Delaney: 'Do you think Simon Ellerbee was faithful to his wife?'
'Of course he was faithful! And she to him. I told you it was a happy, successful marriage. There are such things. I really don't see how all this is going to help you find the person who committed this despicable act.'
